


Spring Child

by maddy_does (favefangirl)



Category: Marvel
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Some angst, Sort Of, TW:, in a fashion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/favefangirl/pseuds/maddy_does
Summary: Tony knows he’s been second best to Howard since the day they pulled Steve fucking Rogers out of the Arctic. America’s wartime hero, Howard’s greatest creation, the man, the myth, the legend. It’s bad enough playing second best to your parents if you’re just an average guy, but when you’ve achieved two masters in engineering by the time you’re 19, and you still don’t make the grade? That’s shitty.The year is 1991. Steve Rogers has been out of the ice for two years. Tony can't decide if he loves or hates him more.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Peggy Carter's Husband, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 156





	Spring Child

Tony knows he’s been second best to Howard since the day they pulled Steve fucking Rogers out of the Arctic. America’s wartime hero, Howard’s greatest creation, the man, the myth, the legend. It’s bad enough playing second best to your parents if you’re just an average guy, but when you’ve achieved two masters in engineering by the time you’re 19, and you _still_ don’t make the grade? That’s shitty.

The worst thing about it all is that Steve is just as fucking perfect as everyone said he was. Gentlemanly, kind, honest. Really, Tony deserves an award for not punching him in his stupid, perfect teeth. It’s a struggle, it really is. Especially when his traitorous dick gets hard every time Steve stops by after a run and he’s all sweaty with exertion, or when he leans over Tony’s shoulder to see what he’s working on in the lab and Tony can’t breathe through the scent of Steve’s cologne, or when Maria holds a barbecue and Steve runs around the garden playing with Peggy’s kids. Or generally whenever he’s in Steve’s presence. 

The day Steve came round talking about a date he'd gotten, you’d’ve thought that they’d just won the lottery. Tony didn’t miss the sad, fond smiles Steve and Peggy shared when he announced it to the group, nor the way his heart contracted at the sight of it. Everyone was thrilled at the prospect that Steve might’ve found love and his whole perfect life could’ve been complete. That day, when Tony was going upstairs to bed, Steve was just leaving.

“Maybe don’t wait forty five years to call this one back,” Tony said.

Steve laughed like Tony wasn’t being malicious. “That’s good advice, kid.”

Tony deserved to punch him for being called that alone - “kid”. He was only eight years younger than Steve (not including the time he was in the ice), he was hardly a child. Still, Steve always managed to make him feel like one. Managed to make him feel like he was just Howard Stark’s dumb kid who was always under someone’s feet, and up to something he shouldn’t have been. It made his stupid juvenile crush (because, yes, alright, _maybe_ it was a crush, and what of it!?) all the more pointless - there was no way Steve was ever going to reciprocate these kind of feelings for someone he saw as, at best, a younger brother and, at worst, no one worth noticing at all.

Steve’s date with whateverhernamewas was not successful, as Tony learned at their next ‘family’ meal. Peggy squeezed Steve’s arm sympathetically and, even though it was a totally platonic gesture, and even though Peggy’s husband was sitting right across from them both, a flare of jealousy arose in Tony. 

It always surprised him how much he _wanted_ . Outside of his overactive libido and Steve’s stupid, perfect face, Tony _wanted_ him. He wanted to curl up with him and watch movies. He wanted to tell him jokes that only the two of them understood. He wanted to be able to touch him, casually, whenever he wanted just to be grounded by the feeling of the other man being there. He wanted to be able to touch Steve’s arm sympathetically and have Steve take some comfort from the mere action.

Whateverhernamewas was way old news by the time Natasha arrived on the scene. Apparently, or so Tony heard from Jarvis the day they were all set to meet her, she was some Russian spy that a friend of Steve’s had converted to the ‘good guys’, and that Steve had started working with. _Unbelievable chemistry_ , Jarvis had added, voice dripping with both sarcasm and disdain.

Tony hated her immediately. And Steve. But above all, he hated himself. Steve had made efforts to be his friend, in the early days. Spending time with him in the lab, offering to take him places on his bike, even inviting him to movies, on a couple of occasions. Tony had rejected it all and pushed him away, convinced the whole thing was Howard’s dong. Tony was no charity case, and he was perfectly happy finding his own friends, thanks very much - look at Rhodey and Pepper! But in pushing Steve away he’d made it so he didn’t even have friendship as a consolation prize. He spent all this time wanting, and the reason he couldn’t have _anything_ was himself.

Natasha, when she arrived at the house that evening, was stunning. Red hair hanging in ringlets and the tightest black dress you’ve ever seen. Tony couldn’t decide which one of them he was salivating over more when Steve walked in wearing a full suit and tie. She was also charming, greeting everyone (including Tony) with a warm smile. Tony only hated her move for how lovely she was.

Dinner was pleasant. Tony played his usual game of purposefully not looking in Steve’s direction, almost entirely sure Steve wasn’t looking in _his_. Tony had been under the impression that Steve and Natasha were a very recent development, but apparently they’d been flirting for months. Tony, of course, did not know this and was furious at everyone for the fact that he didn’t.

After dinner Tony excused himself, intending to go and play in the lab. He was working on some upgrades for his first Artificial Intelligence project that he was affectionately calling Dum-E. He’d been in the lab maybe an hour when he decided he really needed some coffee, so made his way back up into the main section of the house. Through the ceiling length windows in the foyer he could see his parents, and Peggy’s family still sat outside. Steve and Natasha were gone, so Tony assumed they had left. That was until he heard voices from around the corner.

“...deserve better than second best!”

“Nat, I know,” came Steve’s voice, as familiar to Tony as anyone’s. “I’m sorry. I thought, because we had such an easy friendship that maybe…”

“I’m a person, Steve, not an experiment.” Natasha replied, and though her words were sharp her tone was gentle. “Look, clearly there are feelings there. Your eyes were wandering all night. Maybe figure that out first, then try with someone else.”

“Please tell me I haven’t messed up our friendship.”

Natasha laughed. “My best friend tried to kill me the first time we met. I’m more stubborn than that.”

“Not eavesdropping, are we, Sir?” came a voice, suddenly, from behind.

“Of course not, Jarvis, what do you take me for!” Tony replied, all but stomping around the corner so Steve and Natasha would know they had company. As he rounded the corner Steve looked at him sheepishly, clearly concerned he’d been caught out. _It’s all right,_ Tony thought at him as he passed, _everyone knows you’re still in love with Peggy._

* * *

In the run up to Tony’s 21st, Howard pulled him into his office. It was rare, these days, that Tony was allowed in here. He was too much of a toucher, liked to stroke the spines of the books on the shelves, or tilt the pictures on the wall _just so_ to see if Howard noticed. Tony assumed, correctly, that this was about the company. Since birth, it had been written that when Howard died, assuming Tony was 21 years old, the company would fall to him. Tony braced himself for a morbid conversation where they hypothesised Howard’s death, and what Tony would have to do with the company in that situation. Howard was always going on about _direction_. 

He was surprised to see Obadiah Stane also in the office when Tony got there. If Steve was the favourite son, Obadiah was the close second. He’d been in China, overseeing the opening of a Stark Industries factory over there, in association with the Chinese company La Zhurou. He’d left just after Steve had been pulled from the ice, and had only really communicated by fax since. It was somewhat of a shock to the system to see him.

“Hey, Tony, how’re you!” Obadiah asked as Tony stepped further into the room, pulling Tony in for a hug.

Tony and Obadiah had always gotten on. He’d been with SI for as long as Tony could remember, and was practically like an older brother or second father (or, actual father, some days). Tony hugged him back enthusiastically. Obadiah returning meant Tony would finally have someone to work with him in the lab. Or, more likely, keep him company and fetch him mugs of coffee when his was empty.

Howard motioned for them to sit in the pretentious, brown leather chairs on the opposite side of his desk, as he took his own seat in front of his monitor. He looked tense, his back too stiff and his eyes too sharp. It made Tony nervous. Obadiah, by contrast, looked as relaxed as if he was sunning by the pool with a martini. He even had one side of his mouth curved up in a smile. Tony tried to use this ease to help calm himself down.

“Gentlemen,” Howard began, far more formal than was warranted for a conversation with one of his closest friends and his son. “As we all know, Tony is turning 21 in a couple of days, and at that point he officially becomes heir apparent to the company.” Obadiah sent Tony a comforting smile his way that was, dare Tony say it, almost a little bit proud. “I have been carefully considering my options,” Howard continued, “and given the company’s situation and Tony’s, ahem, attitude towards the company, I have decided to change this.”

Tony sat up very straight in his chair as Obadiah began to protest. “I will be making you heir apparent instead, Obadiah,” Howard spoke over them.

“Be reasonable, Howard,” Obadiah said on Tony’s behalf. “Tony’s your son, the natural heir. He’s spent his whole life working for this.”

Howard shook his head somewhat ruefully. “Tony would rather spend his days playing with robots in the lab than sitting through meetings, or looking at paperwork, or thinking about the company as anything more than a cash-grab for his projects. He doesn’t have the diplomacy to run a company!”

Obadiah continued to protest, but Tony blanked it all out. He felt as though reality was totally slipping away from him. He was no longer sat on the uncomfortable chair, he was suspended in the air in a place beyond reason, and time and gravity. There was the distant sound of Obadiah and his father arguing, but nothing that resembled words. He felt like he might vomit. He felt like he might cry. Nothing made sense and everything hurt.

The real world came rapidly back to him when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to look and saw Obadiah looking at him sympathetically. The action made him think of Steve. He threw up in his father’s waste paper bin, and a little bit over his shirt. The look of disgust on Howard’s face made him want to vomit again.

Obadiah wouldn’t stop apologising to him, promising him he’d change Howard’s mind. “It’s alright, Obi,” Tony insisted, sounding almost convincing. “I didn’t want the company anyway. Dad’s right. I’d rather build things than deal with bureaucracy. I can still work for SI even if I don’t run it. Plus, you’ll be a better boss than he ever was.”

Once in the lab, Tony let out an almost animalistic scream. In a fit of rage he threw the contents of his desk across the room and accidentally hit Dum-E. Seeing the robot standing almost shell-shocked, one of his arms laying useless on the floor, emitting sparks, is what finally made the tears come. 

A few days later, Maria had another dinner. All the usual suspects were there, with the addition of Obadiah, who said he’d spent nearly two years dreaming about dinner with family. There was however, an empty seat where Steve would normally be sat. Peggy saw it and frowned. She turned to Howard as though to ask the question, but a near imperceptible shake of his head silenced her. Tony decided then that the only thing worse than seeing Steve was not seeing him. 

* * *

Rhodey insisted on taking Tony out for his 21st birthday, joined inevitably by Pepper whose present was a $10 bill - _“for tinder"_ she’d joked. By 3 am, both Rhodey and Pepper were ready to call it a night, but Tony, who had spent the last week living in the suffocating atmosphere that was his current home life, insisted on staying out longer, and that he’d call Jarvis when he was finally ready to go home. 

Tony spent a little time bar hopping, and was about ready to make the call, when across the room of this latest establishment, he saw something that made him think twice. Steve, sat at a table with some guy Tony had never seen before. They were clearly comfortable with each other, laughing and joking in a way that only friends could. Steve, in the bar’s bad strobe lighting, looked ethereal. His blonde hair glinted, shadows enhanced his chiselled jaw, and he filled out his white button down in all the right ways.

Before Tony could even think what he was doing, his feet were carrying him across the room. He sat down at their table ungracefully and grinned at Steve who looked back at him with unbridled horror. The third man looked between the two and frowned, but Tony paid him very little mind.

“Mr Rogers, it’s my birthday, are you not going to buy me a drink?” Tony slurred, fluttering his eyelashes.

“It looks like you’ve already had plenty,” Steve countered. “Does Howard know where you are?”

Tony rolled his eyes at his father’s name. “Howard is only concerned with Obadiah right now.”

Steve flinched. “I heard about the company. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I tried to talk him out of it.”

Tony shrugged like he hadn’t spent that evening rocking back and forth in the corner of his lab, his mind going into explicit detail about how much of a fuck up he had to be for his own _father_ not to believe in him. The other guy was still looking at them both, somewhere in the range of confused and annoyed.

“Tony,” Tony said, extending a hand, “Stark.”

“Sam Wilson,” the guy responded, taking his hand. “Pleasure.”

“It’s kinda late, Tony,” Steve pressed. “Maybe you should think about heading home?”

For a sudden, painful moment, Tony wondered if maybe he was crashing a date. Maybe Sam was the next Natasha he would have to sit at dinner with, and pretend like his very presence wasn't crushing Tony. But there didn’t feel like there was the kind of energy between them Steve had with Natasha, or even Peggy. But the jolt in his stomach made him feel queasy nonetheless, and oh, would you look at that, he was puking his guts up once again. This time, directly onto Steve’s shoes. He worried the embarrassment of it might kill him.

“Okay,” Steve said gently, patient. “I think I should take you home. Sorry Sam, we’ll talk some other time, yeah?”

“I’ll be around,” Sam responded casually, with a shrug. 

Steve stood and gestured for Tony to do the same. Unfortunately, his legs had gone to jelly, and no sooner was he vertical than he was falling back down again. Luckily, two big, strong, muscular arms caught him before he could hit the floor. In all Tony’s fantasies, being held by Steve was never quite like this.

Steve all but carried him back out of the bar, and once they were outside, he did his best to wipe his shoes on a patch of grass behind the bar. Tony was only more convinced that the mortification was going to send him to an early grave. If ever there was a possibility that Steve could ever see Tony as more than Howard’s dumb kid, he’d well and truly ruined that now.

Once Steve’s shoe just about resembled clean, he held Tony gently by the arm and led him to a car that was parked down the road. Tony didn’t even know Steve owned a car, but climbed in nonetheless when Steve prompted him to. He could just imagine Howard’s reaction when he got home, having thrown up on, and then had to be carried home by _Captain America_ of all fucking people.

He rested his head against the cool window as Steve climbed into the other side, and sped off into the night. Tony must have dozed off because when he woke up they were in what appeared to be a subterranean parking lot. Steve was knelt with the door open on the passenger side of the car, gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up. He smiled softly when he saw that Tony was awake and stepped back so Tony could get out of the car. Shaky from tiredness, and still feeling sick, Tony once again fell and felt those gentle, strong arms catch him.

“This is becoming a habit,” Steve murmured, and while Tony agreed, he didn’t want to ruin the moment by opening his stupid mouth, so he just hummed his agreement while Steve closed the door and locked the car.

Tony was half-carried up to what he could only assume was Steve’s Brooklyn apartment. He’d never been before, but it was cosy inside. There were black and white pictures framed on the wall of Steve with Howard, with Peggy, with Bucky Barnes, with the Howling Commandos which Tony’s eyes were immediately drawn to. Steve’s grin in those pictures made his chest tighten. None of the furniture matched, clearly most of it having been sourced from thrift sales, and there didn’t appear to be any kind of a colour scheme. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, heaving with heavy hardbacks, with paperbacks stacked around the room. Tony immediately loved it. He looked at the couch and images of curling up on it with a blanket and Steve flashed through his mind before he could stop them. 

The man in question closed the door behind them and toed off his dirty shoes on the welcome mat, so as not to tread vomit into the carpet. He then led Tony through the apartment to a bedroom in the back. This very much reflected the living room: mismatched and comfortable. Steve led Tony to sit on the edge of the huge bed at it’s centre and knelt down in front of him. 

_This_ better resembled Tony’s fantasies, that is until Steve bypassed completely Tony’s zip, and went straight for his shoe laces. He very gently helped Tony out of his shoes, and placed them at the side of the bed. He straightened up a little and pushed Tony’s jacket off his shoulders - Tony offering very little assistance - folded this and placed it next to the shoes. 

He looked at Tony’s face then and asked, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Is it okay if I take your pants off? You’ll be more comfortable sleeping without.”

In the dim light streaming in from the tall windows, it was hard to tell if the blush on Steve’s cheek was real or merely a trick of the light. Either way, Tony had to swallow down an obscene whine as he nodded his consent. He thanked the gods themselves for whiskey dick because otherwise, when Steve oh so gently unzipped his pants and pulled them down his legs, Tony would’ve been hard enough to cut diamonds. 

In just a t-shirt and briefs, Tony felt almost vulnerable. In fact, this whole situation, Steve still on his knees between Tony’s legs, folding his jeans to put them by the jacket and the shoes, was the most intimate thing Tony had ever experienced. He’d had his fair share of college flings, but this, the quiet which amplified his breathing, and the light from the windows which highlighted Steve’s cheekbones had his heart racing faster than any of those ever did.

He didn’t know what possessed him to lean forward in that moment and place his lips gently on Steve’s. It was barely a second before Steve was pulling away, but still Ton was able to feel how soft they were, the slight coarse stubble on his cheeks. For that second, the whole world had centred down to the two of them in this small Brooklyn apartment, and it was a high Tony would kill for. 

“You’re drunk,” Steve said gently. He had his eyes closed, brow furrowed. Tony thought it was the look of barely contained anger. “Go to sleep Tony,” Steve finally said, standing up and moving away. “We’ll talk in the morning.” With that Steve left the room, and when Tony curled himself into Steve’s pillow, the duvet cocooning him with Steve’s scent, he wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried.

* * *

With morning came the world’s worst hangover. Tony’s head felt like it was splitting in two, his stomach felt even more uneasy than the night before, and his mouth was drier than the Sahara desert. He groaned as he sat up, and the scent of fresh coffee in the next room was tempting enough for him to throw off the duvet and hunt down a cup of that sweet, sweet, liquid gold. 

Steve was in the kitchen, hair wet like he’d just showered, buttering toast and bopping a little to a song that was playing on the radio. The scene was so domestic, it made Tony’s heart clench. He coughed as he left the bedroom to let Steve know he was there, and then b-lined directly for the coffee that was freshly brewed in the machine. Perhaps it was rude of him to just help himself, but he could never really think straight without coffee anyway.

“Morning,” Steve greeted, putting the freshly buttered toast on a plate that was already piled with a few slices. “I meant to fetch you a glass of water in last night, but when I got in there you were already asleep.”

“It’s fine,” Tony replied after a long swallow of coffee. He leaned against the counter and faced Steve. He crossed his legs over and at that point remembered he wasn’t wearing any pants when he felt bare leg instead of coarse jean. He tried to play it off as though the whole thing was intentional, hoping his quickly-heating face wasn’t about to give him away. “Why didn’t you just take me home?”

Steve grinned shyly. “If I’d’ve gone home to my Mamma in the kind of state you were in last night I’d’ve felt it for a week. Don’t think Howard would’ve been best pleased either.”

Tony huffed a slightly bitter laugh, in part to cover how thrilled he was that Steve was sharing this part of his past with him, mostly because the thought of Howard caring about anything Tony did was pure farce. “I don’t think he would’ve cared. ‘Specially since it was you who carried me home.”

“Howard’s not my biggest fan right now,” Steve explained, offering the toast out to Tony. “We argued about his decision with the company, it’s why I’ve not been around lately.”

Tony wasn’t sure what to say to that. The thought of Howard _not_ worshipping the ground Steve walked on was an alien concept to him. Add into that that Steve cared enough to fight his corner to the point of risking a friendship. The whole thing felt very surreal. Especially since he was currently stood in Steve’s kitchen, eating toast, wearing just his underwear.

He was half way through the slice of toast when last night’s kiss came back to him. He nearly choked on the bread at the memory. _Jesus Christ_ , what the fuck had he been thinking? Casually kissing another man like that - Steve’s gentle rejection was about the best he could’ve hope for, the worst being a punch in the face. But - God, what if Steve told Howard? He was already ashamed of Tony, to add onto that that he was queer as well? He’d be out on his ass faster than you can say 'family ties'.

Tony ate his toast and watched as Steve poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t seem to be freaking out about it, as he calmly added milk and four sugars to the cup. Plus, he hadn’t landed Tony in it about how drunk he’d been last night. Still, there’s a big difference between _“your son got drunk and threw up on me”_ and _“your son molested me in my own home”_.

Tony swallowed thickly around the toast and spoke in a hoarse voice - “About last night…”

“I’m not going to tell Howard,” Steve interrupted, almost as though he could read Tony’s mind. “It’s your decision if, when and what he knows, but I can vouch that he’s not going to care.”

Tony nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief when the words caught up with him. “ _Vouch_?”

Steve shrugged shyly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure,” he said, more than a little sheepish. “He knew about me and Buck and never had a problem with it.”

That knocked Tony for six. The thought that America’s golden boy had, between punching Nazis and carrying out suicide missions, been necking on with his best mate. Especially given that being gay was enough to stop you from being allowed to join the military in the first place. I mean, Christ, their poster child was everything they had claimed to hate!

Steve shrugged again, though there was pink on the apples of his cheeks, and he turned around to put the toaster away in a cupboard. Tony was left to consider the possibility - albeit a small, unlikely, but nonetheless possibility - that Steve could ever feel the same way about him. _“You’re drunk”_ , Steve had said. Not a no, just that he was drunk, and wouldn’t it be just like Steve to do everything in his power not to take advantage of someone who was vulnerable. 

Tentatively, Tony put down his coffee and stepped forward. He placed a shaky hand on Steve's shoulder, getting him to turn around. With his other hand, Tony cupped the side of Steve’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. For a moment or two, Tony thought that Steve was going to kiss back. His lips twitched and a hand came to rest on his hip. In that moment, Tony didn’t care about Howard, or SI, or morning breath, or being half naked. All that mattered was him and Steve.

Then the hand on his hip pushed him away, and those soft lips disappeared from his own. It took him a second to finally open his eyes and when he did he was met with that same restrained face from last night. He wasn’t sure then if he was going to throw up again, or cry, or both. He was filled with bright hot shame and mortification. He hoped the world would open up and swallow him whole.

“Tony,” Steve said, sternly. “What…”

Tony struggled for a moment to catch his breath before he replied. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I thought… Doesn’t matter. Forget it. Forget all of it.” 

As he spoke, Tony quickly backed away in the direction of the bedroom, in hopes to retrieve his shoes and his pants, and then get the hell out of there. How had he been so fucking stupid. So what if Steve wasn’t straight, so what if he’d been nice enough to carry Tony home last night, so fucking what if he’d been kind in his rejection: none of that meant he felt the same way about Tony. Why would any of that mean anything. Steve was in love with Peggy, everyone knew it. Tony, Peggy, hell, even Natasha had gotten out before she got her heart broken. He was such an idiot!

He was in such a rush to pull his pants on that he missed the right leg three times, and was halfway to tying his laces when he realised he had the shoes on the wrong feet. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, his breath was coming in rapid bursts, and he had what felt like a stitch running down his right side. A panic attack, he belatedly realised, he was having a panic attack.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than was there a pair of hands on his shoulders, gently turning him around, careful words of comfort muttered in his ear. He fell forwards and wrapped his arms tightly around Steve who continued to talk to him gently. He could hear Steve’s heartbeat, firm and steady in his ear, and tried to breathe in sync. 

Tony lost all sense of time as he gradually calmed down, and was almost disappointed that he had when Steve gently pried him away. He was led to sit down on the bed, and Steve stood a pace or two in front of him, as though scared to get too close. Tony would’ve been offended, but both times Steve had been nice to him over the last two days, he’d tried to kiss him, so perhaps Steve was right to keep his distance.

“I’m sorry,” Tony mumbled, feeling every bit the ‘kid’ Steve always called him. “I’ve liked you for a while,” he continued, not entirely sure where the words were coming from, “and you’ve been so good to me, and then you were talking about Bucky, and I just thought…” Tony shook his head and laughed bitterly. “I guess I’m just an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot, Tony,” Steve protested, somewhat laboriously. He sighed deeply, and Tony braced for the lecture. “For what it’s worth, I like you too.” Tony had to suppress an eye-roll at that - as is Tony meant he wanted to be friends, make small talk across the dinner table and be patronised about his future plans. “But we can’t be together,” Steve continued. Tony’s head shot up to see if he was serious. “Howard is my friend, and you’re so young. In no time at all you’ll already be in love with the next guy.”

“But… you can’t like me like that,” Tony protested, not even sure himself why. “What… I… _Peggy_!”

Steve smiled sadly. “I’m always going to love Peggy, the same way I’ll always love Bucky. But she’s got her family now, and it hasn’t been the same since I woke up from the ice. I haven’t been.” Steve looked more sheepish as he added, “Plus I’d met you.” He pulled a face. “Not that that matters. Tony, I care about you, truly, and that’s why I can’t let anything happen between us, however you might think you feel.”

That got Tony’s blood boiling. “How I _think_ I feel?” Steve tried to interrupt. “No, no, _think?_ Maybe I’m young, I’ll admit, but to act as though that means I can’t know how I feel. I’m an adult, Steve, I know my own mind and I know my own heart.” Tony shook his head angrily. “If you don’t want to be with me, fine, that’s your call. But don’t pretend you’re doing me a favour, or protecting my vulnerable heart, or whatever shit you’ve got going on. I can make my own decisions. I'm mature enough to handle it.”

Steve stared at him a moment, mouth hanging slightly open, when a flicker of a smile flashed across his face. “Okay,” he relented. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Howard is my closest friend. He’s always been good to me. I couldn’t do that to him.”

“What about what you want?”

Steve looked at him for a moment, eyes soft, a small smile on his lips. “Tony, how could I not want you? You’re smart, and funny, and brave. I never stood a chance. But-”

“No buts, Tony protested, sitting up straight. “You want me, I want you. That’s all there is to it. My dad would just want you happy.”

The smile on Steve’s face was growing, Tony could see he was wearing him down. “I suppose,” Steve said slowly, almost teasingly, “you would make me happy.” Tony couldn’t help the smile that was growing on his own face.

"Ditto."

“And if that’s what Howard would want…” Tony was up in a shot, all but throwing himself into Steve’s arms. Steve laughed and pulled away as Tony tried to kiss him. “Not until you’ve brushed your teeth. God knows what you were be drinking last night.”

Tony all but pouted. “You’re being extremely unreasonable.” Steve shrugged. “Fine,” Tony acquiesced, “I’ll be back.”

Steve grinned, blinding and warm. “I’ll be waiting.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> i have plans to extend this, hence the introduction of Obadiah and the SI plot point, but i wanted to keep this nice and fluffy if i could. let me know if there's anything you'd like me to explore more in the future.
> 
> i don't really like the pacing, or the ending, or the general characterisation, but i haven't posted in so long and i finally had time to just sit and write soooooo.
> 
> if you wanna leave a comment or a kudos they're much appreciated! especially let me know if there's something you think i forgot to tag!
> 
> i like friends so my tumblr is always open: [maddy-does](https://maddy-does.tumblr.com/). my Insta is @maddy.does, but i'm super inactive so good luck, lol.
> 
> i'm taking prompts! if you're interested please message me on one of the social media listed above, or drop the prompt in the comments below. if you do send a prompt be prepared for me to take fifty years to fill it because school is so hard, but i promise i'll try!
> 
> thanks again for reading, have a wonderful existence.


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